


Verisimilar

by xerios



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Genocide, Implied/Referenced Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerios/pseuds/xerios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles of an AU wherein there is a survivor of the destruction of Shockwave's lab. Begins shortly after the episode 'Evolution'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Survivor

The stone nearest to the blast site was charred black, the air still laden with the corrosive scent of burnt wiring and slowly cooling metal. It was a dead smell, he decided. He could taste it at the very edge of every intake, tainting the air cycling through his vents. There were no words to describe what he felt at seeing what was left of the lab, or to be more precise, there were too few. The twisted and barbed vines of metal filling the chamber, of so much intrigue to those he had sworn fealty to, held no interest for him.

He left them to their talk.

There were vehicons about, clearing some of the rubble. They skittered out of his way, oozing fright and nervousness. They were not the target of his ire and so he ignored them. 

The mine was extensive. There were many side tunnels, many crevasses and cracks that hadn't been explored. Earlier, he'd had an itch to explore them, to map out and commit every passageway to memory. That urge was gone now, replaced with a want to tear down the entire mountain around him. He flexed his claws, pausing a moment to look out into one of the larger chambers of the mine.

It was then he heard it. Faint to his auditory sensors, but there all the same. He turned his helm, optics cycling open just a bit wider. It came again, the sound - a barely audible wheeze. He glanced back at the vehicons, the sound of their movements and intakes already somewhat familiar to him. No, this noise could not have come from one of them. He turned back towards the tunnel leading to the lab, stopping just short of the entrance to listen.

There was another opening higher up along the wall, small and nearly blocked by a jagged outcrop of stone. He stared at it for one long moment, waiting and listening. His own intakes halted for a moment, held back to better pinpoint his quarry. The wall was nearly vertical, artificially cut rather than naturally worn away, and as such there were very few handholds.

He did not care and climbed it anyway, digging his claws into the stone and pulling his weight up. The break in the wall was only just large enough for his frame to fit through. It led up and back through the stone, mimicking the tunnel below in a much more jagged fashion. Loose rocks and pebbles scraped the plating covering his legs and his shoulder-guards scuffed against the walls with every movement.

The sound grew slightly louder and with it returned that burnt odor he had associated with death. But laced in was another scent - energon.


	2. Repairs

He waited and watched, optics aglow from the darkest corner of the room. The medic worked, tinkering away under the harsh glare of the med bay lights. There was nervousness about the gleaming red mech’s movements, revealed in the way his digits hovered over the tray containing his tools. He was not certain where the hesitation came from, when the orders had been so clear.

There had been the expected expressions of shock when he had dropped down from the wall with the other in his arms. Shock and, for a brief moment, dismay. Reassurances had been quick - the same pledges of retribution accompanied by the promise of ensuring that everything that could be done to save this lone survivor would be done. He’d stared them down, tensing sharply when Shockwave moved forward to take the limp frame from his arms.

He had refused, instead carrying the other through the ground bridge himself.

Briefly, he shuttered his optics. The medical bay was devoid of any sharp odors save for what emanated from the operation table. There was a faint scent of cleaning solvent underlying everything, but it was overshadowed by energon and fresh solder.

There had been twenty tanks, he had counted them. The forms within had been distinct in shape, though with so short a span of time spent in the lab he had not memorized them. He could not say how this one had managed to escape, though Shockwave voiced some speculations. The cycloptic scientist had spoken of variables such as proximity to the lab entrance and distance from the center of the blast.

He did not care - it was enough that there was a survivor.

There was a shriek, laced with pain and fear and confusion. His optics snapped open to see the medic struggling to finish welding a rather large gash on the other’s hind limb. Solder poured in, leaving a gleaming silver welt against the dark crimson armor. The tool was knocked away not a moment later, sent sliding across the floor as another sensor shattering cry tore through the air.

He moved then, three quick steps taking him up to the table, a low growl pulled from his vocal capacitors. Hand raising, he let his claws skim lightly over an uninjured portion of the other’s ventral plating. Immediately there was stillness and silence, save for the medic’s muttered annoyances. He ignored the red mech, gaze fixated on the form of the other still strapped to the operation table.

The form was different than his own beastial mode, much lankier than his broad frame. Where he had wings this one had fins, though the webbing seemed to be of the same golden-orange mesh. The fins could not have possibly been made for flight, though perhaps a glide might be managed if fully extended. Amber optics akin to his own stared up at him, unblinking. He kept his hand resting on the other’s middle, feeling the faint movement of intakes venting in and out.

The door to the med bay opened, followed by footsteps and voices speaking just beyond. His auditory sensors caught the low rasp of Lord Megatron and the overconfident cant of the medic. He did not need to hear their words to know they spoke of the other’s condition. Instead he watched those optics flick their focus in that direction, such alertness far more of a reassurance than words could possibly be.


	3. Recognition

The other stirred, tail lashing and limbs attempting to pull at the straps still holding its frame to the operating table. The medic had left some time ago, leaving only a cursory amount of lighting for the medical bay’s occupants. He had taken the space on the floor, lying on his back to stare at the ceiling. Recharge had crept up on him, though he fought it for as long as possible, struggling to maintain a state of awareness keen enough to listen.

He rose in one fluid motion, gaze sweeping the room for any danger that may be present, but it was as empty as it had been before. Gaze turning to the table, the other had stilled upon spotting him, optics focused and attentive. He looked at the straps, the way they were strategically laced over each limb to restrict movement. They were easy to slice through with his claws.

Once loosed, the other flipped swiftly from its side to its belly, fins flaring out briefly before settling tight against dorsal plating. The gleaming silver solder scars of its wounds were sharply evident, but no longer a source of distress. He watched himself being watched, those amber optics regarding him calmly but warily. Slowly, he extended a hand, the clawed tips of his fingers brushing faintly along the other’s neck. A shiver greeted his touch and a low, light trill of sound met his auditory sensors.

The recognition was pleasing.


	4. Lessons

The medic had protested when they left the medical bay. More accurately, the red mech chased after him as he walked out with the weight of the other's frame draped over his shoulders. The litany of reasons against leaving only ended with a shrieking hiss that threatened to damage the auditory sensors of everyone in the vicinity.

There was only a brief reprieve, however, for it seemed the medic had alerted a higher power. Lord Megatron soon appeared, crimson optics narrowing slightly as his gaze fell on the two of them.

"You really should heed Knockout's recommendations," the warlord stated solemnly, turning his head slightly to focus on the silvery welts left upon the smaller predacon's leg. "We would not want him to stress the injury now, would we?"

"He did not wish to remain strapped down and in all likelihood would have injured himself further attempting to get loose," he said, the other shifting its helm almost imperceptibly to follow the conversation. He could feel its optics focusing on him as he spoke. "He will not come to harm in my presence."

"Of course not."

The warlord nodded, though there was a shift of expression that hinted at continued disapproval. He chose to ignore it, instead stepping past and heading towards the flight deck. 

There were vehicons about, but he paid them no heed as he strode by them. The other seemed to be emulating this, only slightly moving its helm to glance at each one - the smallest of acknowledgements. Otherwise there was no movement at all from the smaller predacon perched upon his shoulders.

He was not certain if this was worrisome.

Possibly the other was merely being cautious. With so recent an injury and only minor familiarity with the world, it was perhaps reigning in its curiosity in favor of relative safety.  
The doors to the flight deck slid open as he approached, the difference in atmospheric pressure creating a brief whorl of air as he stepped through. The other's reaction was immediate - helm lifting up and fins stretching out to their fullest length. A series of low clicks emanated from its vocalizer. He glanced to the side, seeing that it had it's optics shuttered. He felt some small measure of amusement then, to see the other enjoying the change in atmosphere so much.

He walked out into the open air of the flight deck, feeling the other shifting on his shoulders to survey these new surroundings. Claws dug into his shoulder plates as it pushed its upper body up to better its view. This was the only warning he had, as within the next few seconds the other had detached itself from his shoulders to scurry off down the smooth metal plane of the flight deck.

A sudden terror seized his spark then and he reacted on instinct, launching forward and shifting to his beastial form in one fluid motion. If the other noticed this change, it gave no indication - though it appeared to be more focused on reaching the edge of the flight deck. He chased after it, reaching the edge and cutting it off in a few short bounding strides.

A low growl of warning and bared teeth had the other frozen in its tracks, those amber optics cycling open wide with shock.

Not half a klik later the smaller predacon was skittering off in the opposite direction, a terrified warble escaping its vocalizer. At first the other ran towards the door, but as the locks had not yet been coded to detect the smaller predacon, they did not open. It scratched at the metal for a few frantic seconds, then paused to glance back towards where he had crouched at the prow of the ship. He watched the smaller predacon for a moment, unmoving save for optics and the occasional twitch of his mandibles.

When he did move, the reaction was immediate - it was only a shift of his wings and yet the other let out a shriek and promptly dove behind the communications array to the right of the door. He snorted and started forward, tail sweeping slowly back and forth in the air behind him. The other peeked out from behind the array only to duck back with a terrified squeak at his approach.

With a rumbling chuckle, he shifted back into his bipedal form, crouching on the deck to peer around the side of the array. The other let out a high pitch trill, immediately returning to its previous perch across his shoulders. He reached a hand up, claws skimming across the smaller predacon's snout.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked, as the other pressed its helm into his hand. It was obvious that the smaller predacon had yet to realize that he and his beastial mode were one and the same. "Forgive this lesson, but it is one you must learn quickly."

He stood and walked back out across the flight deck, still stroking the other's helm - contact keeping it calm. The purr emanating from its frame was pleasing, enough to delay his plan of action a moment.

But only a moment.

When he transformed this time the smaller predacon had the optimal view. It went from being draped contentedly over his shoulders to shrieking in startlement atop his back. He felt its claws dig into his spinal ridges as it shifted and turned about - though the scent of fear was strong at first it soon faded. The shrieks ceased and were replaced with curious warbles, the other soon finding the courage to nudge at his wings and neck.

He turned his head to peer at the smaller predacon, waiting and watching as it explored over his back. After a few minutes of examination, it looked back at him, helm tilted to the side and optics glinting with interest. He tilted his own helm, gaze flicking over the smaller predacon's posture - the fins protruding from its helm were stretched out and back, the spines within flicking every so often. The pair on its back were still partially folded across its back, the golden orange making a nice contrast against the darker red of its armor.

An impatient chirp and the prickle of claws scraping his plating snapped his attention back to the task at hand. He turned his head away from its gaze, feeling mildly amused by the shift in its behavior. Shifting as slowly as possible back into his bipedal form took some focus, but it had to be done so that the other could observe the process. 

Observe and learn.


End file.
